


Tomorrow's Memories

by Zillabird



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Brainwashing, Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Established Relationship, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zillabird/pseuds/Zillabird
Summary: Talon doesn't know why the Batman makes his head buzz and his heart beat faster in his chest. He doesn't know why he calls him by a name Talon doesn't recognize, or act as if the two of them share a past. He doesn't understand why Batman's allies seek him out and tell him stories about a man they once knew in their past. What he does know is that he happens to like the Batman and his allies even if the Court does not. And he knows if the Court ever knew this, someone would die.Bruce lost Dick in the worst way possible. There one minute, disappeared into thin air the next. They searched desperately but found no sign of him. As suddenly as he'd vanished, he reappeared just like that. A puppet for the Court now, Lincoln March is using Dick to keep the Batman and his allies off the Court's tail. Despite all signs to the contrary, Bruce refuses to believe that the love of his life is truly gone for good. He'd fight Heaven and Hell for the chance to be with Dick again, but fighting Dick himself is a challenge he never expected to face.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. Oh well. There's probably like four hundred versions of this story but I guess you're getting my version anyways. I need Talon!Dick and I needed my BruDick.
> 
> Just a note, I may add on warnings and tags so please keep an eye up there on those things.

It’s been three months, one week, and six days. March seems to take some sort of sick, twisted pleasure out of telling him how much time has passed. He delights in showing Dick pictures of his family in the most intimate of settings. Knowing that he’s doing it to crush Dick’s hope for rescue doesn’t stop it from happening, the lies whispered in his ear that they’ve moved on and forgotten about him don’t stop hurting just because Dick has trained in withstanding interrogation and torture. Those pictures are a threat too, a reminder of how close March can get to Bruce and Damian, Jason and Tim, Stephanie, Cass, Barbara, and even Alfred if Dick actually managed to succeed at one of his fruitless escape attempts.

Blood runs down Dick’s arms from where the manacles have bitten into his wrists. He’s not quite sure how long he’s been hanging from the stone ceiling in the Court but he’d hazard to guess at least four or five hours. Some of that time has been filled the crack of a whip cutting blood red lines into his back, some of it has been leaving him here while blood drips down his skin and then plops softly on the floor beneath him.

He’s never alone, not since he came here. Even in blissful sleep there’s someone assigned to watch him. The moment he regains even the slightest bit of strength, they drag him back here and rip him back down again.

Batman never taught him to give up, but it’s beginning to get harder to remember that.

The door is silent when it opens. Dick always expects it to creak but there’s just a sudden brush of cool air against his ravished back. Then the cool air is gone and it’s replaced by March’s hot breath against the back of his neck. “How are you feeling, Talon?”

Tired. Sore. Desperately, tragically hopeless. “Superb as usual.”

The commentary used to anger March but it makes him smile now. Dick has been down here so long that the man knows Dick’s bravado when he sees it. It’s making a show now, covering up how lost Dick is feeling.

“What?” Dick asks. To his own ears, his voice sounds hoarse and rough. Like he gargled nails or screamed for hours on end. Spoiler alert, it was the latter. “No pictures this time?”

If he’ll be honest, Dick craves the photos as much as he hates them. It gives him some small amount of peace to know his family is okay. Seeing Tim bent over his textbooks working on homework or Stephanie and Cassandra sharing an intimate embrace on the edge of the rooftop looking down into the city. Damian bonding with Bruce. He knows, _knows_ , he’s not forgotten – but his absence has been accepted. Still, moving on rather than torturing themselves, Dick will keep forcing himself to be happy for them.

It’s more than he thought any of them capable of doing, especially Bruce who had lost so much already and now would go back to sleeping alone at night.

Batman never taught him to give up, but Dick thinks he’s carefully toeing the line between giving up and defeat enough that he can still believe Bruce would respect him after this is over.

“Just one,” March says. He holds up the photo, glossy it reflects the pale light in the chamber. Dick takes it all in. Bruce, at a table. Dick recognizes the woman. Selina Kyle, Gotham’s resident cat burglar.

Bruce is smiling and for a moment Dick’s heart warms because he’s missed that smile and there haven’t been many in these pictures, except that it’s the inevitable event Dick has been waiting for. The true sign that Bruce is moving on. He’ll never forgive himself for never finding Dick, because it’s Bruce, but he’ll let someone pull him back from the edge to keep him from plunging over.

That person used to be Dick.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment. We both know what it means,” March says. “We both know he’s giving up that you’re coming back.”

“Good,” Dick mutters, dragging his eyes away from the photo. Good that Bruce still has life in him. Good that Bruce can let someone else love him, even after so much loss and pain.

“That leaves you and me, Gray Son of Gotham,” March says. “And eternity to break you.”

“Batman never taught me to give up,” Dick hisses.

March raises an eyebrow and looks at the photo himself. “Didn’t he?” It flutters out of his fingers, falling to the ground face up to mock him. “No one can last forever, Gray Son. You’ll submit to the training eventually, and now I have all the time in the world.”

The door closes with a repeat of the brush of air and the sudden cut off before the room stagnates again. Nothing but the too loud sound of his heartbeat and the plop of his blood dripping onto the floor.

Some of it drops onto the photograph, staining the space between Bruce and Selina with red.

It’s _good_ that Bruce is moving on with her.

Really.

Dick’s sigh echoes in the empty chamber.

~~~

It’s been five months, three weeks, and one day. Dick doesn’t even remember what he’s counting from. Just that he knows there’s a pattern to how the men and women leave and enter the rooms and he worked it out to be a day and when you add all of them up, it’s been nearly six months since something happened.

Dick hasn’t slept in five days and it’s making it hard to remember what he’s supposed to be counting from.

“Gray Son,” March orders.

Dick looks up because it’s just so much easier than getting his ass handed to him if he ignores the man.

“How are you feeling?” March asks.

Superb. Fantastic. Never better. The lies that flood his head don’t make sense and Dick doesn’t even have the energy to try to formulate a lie to the man. Ask, answer, and be honest. “Tired.”

“I’ll bet,” March says.

It’s without thought that Dick starts to nod off again but the moment his eyes stay closed for more than a blink’s worth the shock jolts his body and he’s awake again.

“What’s your name?”

Dick licks his lips. “Dick.”

Another zap. Dick doesn’t even remember blinking that time.

“Your name, Gray Son?”

“It’s…” Dick trails off. “It’s Dick.”

His heart jackrabbits from the electrical jolt.

“It’s….” Dick closes his eyes and then forces them back open before he can be electrocuted again. “I don’t know.”

For some reason, he’s expecting another jolt but it doesn’t come.

“Good,” March says. “That’s because you don’t have one.”

Dick thought everyone had a name. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“You’re a Talon. Talons are things, not people. They don’t have names,” March presses. “Do you understand, Talon?”

That’s not right. Dick doesn’t know how but he knows it’s not right. He knows it like he knows that his wrist healed too quickly, like he knows that the pale light in the room has grown brighter since about a month ago, like he knows that he hasn’t eaten or drank anything in longer than even his limits were capable of and he’s barely experiencing hunger or thirst right now. He knows it’s wrong like he knows that if he wasn’t so tired, he’d be able to put those pieces together and come up with something.

He gasps when he’s shocked again and Dick swallows before responding, “Yes, I understand.”

“Do you have a name, Talon?” March asks.

“No,” Dick says. He remembers that. It hasn’t been so long that he doesn’t remember that.

“Are you sure?” March presses.

He’s sure that March says he doesn’t have a name. “I’m sure.”

“Is your name Richard?” March asks.

Dick wrinkles his forehead. His eyes close and Dick counts one, two, three, four, five, six…

There’s no shock and Dick relaxes some.

There’s a note of warning to March’s tone as he repeats himself. “Is your name Richard?”

“No,” Dick whispers. No shock. Dick’s eyes are closed. Maybe it’s finally an end to the straight run of going without sleep for so long.

He’s drifting off when March’s voice carries to someone else in the room. “Let him have an hour and then wake him up again. Repeat the line of questioning. If we have to keep doing that for a month, then we’ll do it that way. I don’t want him to _recognize_ his name, let alone answer to it.”

“Yes, sir.”

~~~

“Again.” Talon’s instructor barks out the order. Talon throws the knife in his hand. It sinks into the dummy in the dead center of his chest. The instructor steps forward and removes the knife. “Again.”

Talon repeats the throw. It lands in the same place as usual. Dead center of the dummy’s chest. The knife is removed and Talon prepares for the same repeated order. The instructor puts up his hand. “Wait.”

Talon lowers the knife, gripping it in his left hand and putting both hands behind his back. Shoulders back, back straight, feet apart while he waits for orders. His eyes narrow when the doors open and two mask wearing men drag in a struggling man between them. Talon doesn’t recognize him. The new man doesn’t give off the faint buzz that pictures of some other people do.

This man doesn’t give him that buzz, no warmth. He doesn’t make Talon feel cold like the sight of Master March makes him feel. There is nothing.

“Again,” his instructor orders. “In the chest.”

The man is standing in front of the dummy. How can Talon hit the dummy with something in the way?

“Sir?” Talon hedges cautiously.

“Throw the knife, Talon.”

Gold eyes flicker over the situation. There is no such thing as an impossible order. The instructors never expect something of Talon that he cannot give them. He may not know that he is capable of giving it to them, he may have to be properly motivated to give his all in search of a mission, but they expect nothing more of him than he is capable of.

The man’s screams are muffled behind the gag between his lips. “Sir, please clarify the order.”

“Your target has been replaced. Hit the new target in the chest,” the instructor orders.

Talon expects to feel relief. He is not required to hit the dummy. Striking the new target in the chest is an easy feat. Instead, he becomes tenser. And the man’s muffled screams grow louder.

Talon readies the blade. He does not throw it. His muscles seize up. This is an order. Punishment for failure will be swift and unforgiving. The Court has treated him well. They have improved him. They have given him gifts and privileges.

It is his duty to pay them back with obedience.

“Talon,” the instructor warns. “Throw the knife.”

He does, releasing it from his fingers and watching with super human sight as it sinks into the dummy’s shoulder behind his new target. There is silence in the room except for the man’s cries for mercy behind his gag. Talon shifts, knowing he has not followed orders. “I missed, sir. Perhaps more practice with the previous dummy will-“

“Report to conditioning, Talon,” the instructor orders.

Talon swallows. There is nothing to feel now but guilt. He knew he was disobeying orders and this is only going to be exactly what he deserves. “Yes, sir.”

“You said he would be ready,” Master March hisses.

The instructor is quick to get defensive as Talon walks out of the room. “I said that he _might_ be ready. I even suggested a few more weeks, maybe a month, to be sure.”

“You have two weeks to get him ready,” Master March replies. “Or I’ll let him use you as his target when he does finally get ready.”

The door closes behind him and Talon reports to the room and strips off his shirt as the whip is unraveled. He braces against the wall and doesn’t flinch at the first crack of it against his skin.

~~~

“Talon.” He looks up as Master March enters the room. It is to be Talon’s first mission, his first time allowed off the grounds alone. Still, he ceases getting ready and drops to one knee on the ground. His head bowed gives Master March easy reach to run his hand through Talon’s hair. He doesn’t like it, he’s never liked it, but he doesn’t pull back. Certainly doesn’t argue. It surprises him when Master March laughs lightly behind his white mask. “I can’t wait until he sees you again. It’ll break his little heart.”

Considering that Talon’s target tonight is a woman, he can’t begin to understand who Master March is talking about.

“But that’s for another night. Tonight, you make the Court proud,” Master March says.

“Yes, sir,” Talon replies.

“You will rid the world of the blight upon it by following the Court’s wishes to the letter,” Master March says.

“Yes, sir,” Talon replies.

“Stand. You can finish getting ready.” The hand pulls out of his hair which is a relief to Talon. He does stand then and finishes strapping his weapons to the complicated system of belts, ties, and such keeping them to his body. “You’ve come a long way. I could even say that I’m proud of the progress you’ve made.”

Talon watches him with a sense of wariness. Master March has been the voice behind most of his orders for punishment. It has hard to believe that someone he has apparently failed so often could be proud of him. But he knows the appropriate response. “Thank you, sir.”

“I didn’t quite understand his infatuation with you.” They’re back to talking about someone else. Master March cups his cheek which is a remarkably gentle touch compared to what Talon is used to. “But now that you’re mine, I think I understand better.”

Talon’s golden eyes flicker back and forth over the other man’s face. Master March doesn’t pull away and Talon has to quietly remind him, “My apologies, sir, but I have a mission to be taking care of.”

“Yes, of course.” The man pulls back. “When he sees you again, you need to have blood on your hands.”

Later in the evening, Talon thinks back on those words as he looks down at his gloves and the dark, wet spots of blood. He has blood on his hands. Master March will be pleased.

He perches on the fire escape to take off back towards the Court but ends up distracted by a light in the sky. Not the moon or the stars, though Talon has enjoyed seeing them for the first time beyond vague, forgotten hints of memories. It was a light originating from a roof. Part of it darkened in the shape of a bat.

His eyes flash over to another roof where he saw movement, two human shapes moving across the city through the dark with capes billowing out behind them. It made his head buzz uncomfortably and he shook it in an attempt to clear it before darting away into the darkness.

When he reports back to the Court, he chooses not to tell them about the light and the shadows leaping across the rooftops.

~~~

Talon wants to know why Master March wants to approach the Batman so badly. He’s just learned of one of their biggest obstacles, which is apparently one man in a costume based on a nocturnal rodent and several bird and bat themed allies. Several of these allies appear to be beneath the age of maturity. Talon does not completely understand how such a group of individuals could be considered so dangerous, but he does know that the Court is right and that listening to them is for the best.

In other words, if the Court says the Batman is dangerous than Talon will respect that warning. The logical response in dealing with a dangerous enemy was either to remove it from the equation or retreat. Half of the Court had voted for the former, half had voted for the latter, but here Master March stood as he made a case for keeping the Batman alive and approaching him with an offer.

“The Batman is more than just a man,” Master March lectures. “He is a symbol, one that this city would be worse off without. What we need is not to erase him entirely, but to limit him. He could even be beneficial under certain guidelines.”

“A plan that relies very heavily on the idea that he will bend to our will for one man,” a woman says. She, like the others, wears a white Owl mask over her face. It muffles her speech some but not enough that she cannot be heard by every single person in the room. “We have threatened him _and_ his allies before and the results were poor at best. How is this any different?”

“Because a threat has nothing on follow through,” Master March says. “We are not threatening anymore, we have that which he cares about in our grasp and it would be a crime not to use that to our advantage.”

“You’ll break it,” another man says. “The training serves a purpose-“

“It doesn’t have to know the reason. We keep them ignorant for a purpose,” Master March says.

Talon wonders what is so ignorant.

Master March curls his hand on the podium. “I am willing to stake my life on the fact that this is the best option for everyone involved. Should the plan fail to be effective, I will submit to an execution with no argument.”

This causes murmurs in the crowd of which Talon gets bits and pieces of. When the quiet roar of whispers dies down, the woman from before stands. “Fine. We will allow you a chance to leash the Batman and curb his rebellions against us. If you fail, you die.”

Talon sees the victory in Master March’s smile.

In the shadows, Talon crouches down beside Master March. His enhanced eyes scan the darkness and his advanced hearing filters in and out what he hears to determine what’s worth listening to. He still doesn’t see the sense of this plan but he supposes that might be beyond him.

Much of the Court workings are.

Finally a group appears. Three of them. Talon recognizes the youngest as Robin. Based on the sounds he’s getting, there is some argument going on between Robin and the older boy, Red Robin. His eyes settle on the Batman last out of some strange desire to spend more time looking at him.

There’s something eerily familiar about the way the Batman holds himself, the way the costume clings. Talon can almost taste it, but it remains out of reach.

“Showtime,” Master March says. “Engage the targets. Disarm and defend when necessary but do not terminate.”

“Yes, sir,” Talon says.

He uses the sides of buildings, the metal bars of fire escapes, and his own talent of grace and speed to zip the few buildings to where they are standing. He lands in a crouch in front of the Bat himself and then straightens as the man tenses. But the Bat doesn’t step back. Talon pulls the goggles back to rest in his hair and stares into the white lenses of the mask.

“Dick?” Red Robin asks.

“Bruce Wayne, the Court of Owls will have a moment of your time,” Talon says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile. All I can say is that I have a busy schedule and I'm trying.

“Dick.” The Batman this time. His hand twitches. Perhaps reaching out but the man aborts the motion before it can even move past his thigh.

“Bruce,” Master March says from behind him.

The Batman’s head snaps up and his jaw clenches. “What is this?”

“A boy,” Master March says. “Yours, if my intelligence was correct.”

“That’s not Dick,” the Batman says. “Dick is dead.”

“There was no body,” Red Robin says softly.

“Dick is dead,” the Batman growls. “This is some mockery of him the Court concocted for sick amusement.”

“Come here, Talon, and kneel,” Master March orders.

It’s not Talon’s first choice. This position doesn’t lend for good defense. The Court knows best, however, and Talon kneels beside his master.

“Grayson?”

“It’s not Dick,” the Batman snaps.

“It most definitely is,” Master March says. “Though he doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know much of anything, other than what we tell him. Obedient. Submissive. There’s video if you’d like it, Bruce. Maybe you want to copy the results so your little birds over there backtalk a little less.”

“It’s not-“

“Brucie…” Master March interrupts, lips curling up. “It _is_. Your denial makes you blind but eventually you’re going to have to accept the truth. He’s been gone for a year and all this time we kept him right under your nose. Not dead and buried by some clown freak wanting to toy with you but alive and begging for you to come save him. Until he gave up. He didn’t beg as much once he realized you were never coming for him.”

Talon glances up at Master March curiously, only risking eye movement since looking up when he’s very clearly wanted in a submissive position is risking a long night in conditioning. His eyes flicker over to the Batman who tenses.

“It can’t be…”

“I’d pay to see the guilt in your eyes right now, big brother,” Master March hisses. “You left him to us and we twisted until he broke. Shattered him up there in that pretty head of his. He held out for a long time, if you can summon up some pride for him.”

The Batman growls again and darts forward. Talon is there, on his feet, with a blade poised at the Batman’s throat before he gets anywhere near Talon’s master.

Master March’s laugh is as sharp as the crack of the whip against Talon’s skin. “Careful, Bruce. Talon is very loyal to his masters.”

The little one takes a step closer and Talon prepares for a two front attack only to have the Batman put up a hand to stop him from getting any closer. “Don’t, Robin.”

“We are not going to let him do this to Grayson!” Robin exclaims.

The Batman directs his gaze to Talon. The killer can _feel_ it, the intensity of his eyes even from behind the mask. “The moment we attack him, Dick… Talon will attack.”

“You learn quickly, don’t you?” Master March asks sarcastically.

The Batman’s gaze moves and Talon finds that he can relax some. He never even realized that he tensed from it. “What do you want? That’s what this is about, right? You and the rest of the Court want something in return for his freedom?”

Master March raises an eyebrow. “No, Bruce. Of course not.”

The Batman huffs out a breath. “You’re not planning to turn him over of your own generosity.”

“You misunderstand,” Master March says. “We’re not planning on turning him over at all.”

Red Robin stiffens but otherwise makes no movement.

“You left him for anyone to take and the Court took. We needed a new Talon and you so kindly provided.” Master March laughs again. “We have no intentions of turning over our best weapon. But if you’re cooperative, I might not take out my frustrations on him.”

If the Batman seemed intimidating before, that was nothing on the aura he was putting off now. Talon wanted to put some distance between them, suddenly siding with the half of the Court who had voted to retreat from the man before him. It made no sense but Talon was chilled by the carefully contained rage coming off the man.

“Is that a threat?” the Batman asks.

Master March laughs like the crack of the whip, but the way the Batman speaks is like the cold chill of ice that Master March had once threatened him with should he fail his duties.

“Of course it is,” Master March says. “Of _course_. And you’re going to heed them. Maybe not the first time, maybe not even the second, but eventually the blood on your hands is going to make you sick because it’s his. Eventually I’m going to leave enough bruises or touch him just right and you’re going to give us what we want to protect him.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists,” the Batman growls.

“Batman-“ Robin starts.

“Maybe not the first time,” Master March repeats. “Maybe not even the second. But one day and one day soon, you’re going to protect him. Because until then, I can make him hurt and you don’t want that. Trust me. He hurt enough in the year you let us turn him into our weapon.”

“When I get my hands on you,” the Batman says, trailing off into an implicit threat.

“I’ll send him to you in a few days,” Master March says. There’s none of the fear in his master’s voice that Talon feels. “You’ll let him return or I’ll put him through hell when he escapes you.”

There’s a tic in the Batman’s jaw Talon can make out.

“Talon, heel,” Master March orders.

Talon cautiously lowers the blade. He steps back and stands beside Master March, one step behind him.

“This is _bullshit_ ,” Robin says. He moves again and the older one, Red Robin, grabs the boy by the shoulders. “Grayson-“

“We have to let him go,” Red Robin whispers. Master March probably misses it but Talon’s advanced hearing make it clear as anything else said on the rooftop. “This time.”

“We’re leaving, Talon,” Master March says. He snaps his fingers. “Stay close.”

“Talon,” the Batman barks.

The killer stops at his name, stilling on the edge of the rooftop. He glances at Master March but the man is watching the Batman just as curiously as Talon is.

The Batman waits until Talon is looking at him again to speak. “Dick, we haven’t forgotten about you even if you’ve forgotten about us. I’m going to bring you home.”

Master March sighs. “He has no idea what you’re talking about, Bruce.”

“One day, he will,” the Batman says, never taking his eyes off Talon. “I _will_ bring you home.”

Master March rolls his eyes. “Talon. Home.”

Talon falls into a crouch and nods. “Yes, sir.” Without another glance back, Talon pushes off the rooftop and takes the path back to the Court.

~~~

“You’re confusing it,” Master March says with a sigh.

“Talon, tell us if the Batman had plans to attack after your meet with him,” a female Court member demands.

Talon has been questioned for twenty minutes and he hates it. “He-”

“Talon, did he seem angry?” a different Court member.

Talon changes gears, trying to answer this question instead. “Well, he-“

A male Court member pushes to the front. “Did March give out any information about the Court?”

Talon shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“You’re overwhelming it with all of your questions,” Master March says.

The same male Court member scoffs. “You expect us to believe only your take on the events of tonight?”

“Of course not,” Master March says, patiently. “But I do expect you not to break perfectly good equipment by questioning it before its trainer has had the chance to work with him through this. That’s why we have trainers. He’ll determine how to go about questioning. None of you are ready to handle the complexity of the Talon’s programming.”

“He’s right. Talon is growing agitated,” the Grandmaster says. She stands. “Talon, return to your trainer. We’ll speak again tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Talon says, standing.

“March is right,” one says, as Talon leaves the room. “If the Batman was going to attack, he’d be here attacking.”

“Unless he’s biding his time.”

The Grandmaster waves her hand to silence them. “Depending on what we hear from Talon tomorrow, March may get his request for another meeting. Perhaps the Batman is really considering this proposal. I don’t want to act hastily.”

The door shuts behind Talon and the conversation is muted to even his ears.

~~~

“I know you’re there,” Robin calls.

It’s the same three of them. The Batman, Red Robin, and the little one in those distracting red, green, and yellow colors.

“Is it-“

Robin glances up at the Batman and replies, “Who else would it be?”

Talon hesitates and then steps out of the shadows. He did not like this plan earlier and he likes it less now. For all his training, his advantages, he knows that the Batman would be a formidable opponent. The younger ones were trained by him. The probabilities for success should this end in a fight are not as high as Talon would like them to be.

“Dick,” Red Robin says. Talon doesn’t look at him. “Talon?”

He turns to face him, pulling the goggles up into his hair.

“What happened to you?” Red Robin asks.

Talon frowns. Master March instructed him to answer some of their questions, the ones that didn’t go against the operative to protect the Court. But this one doesn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand the question.”

“How did you let them turn you into their mindless drone?” Robin demands. It’s quite the abrasive tone for someone so small.

“I am not mindless,” Talon says.

“They pulled you out and put someone else inside your head,” Robin says. “Grayson, please, cease this foolishness. You are stronger than this.”

Talon blinks at him. He is expected to be here for some time and Master March will not be happy if he returns early. But he doesn’t like being here. These people are enemies of the Court and their words are nonsense.

“Don’t upset him, Robin,” the Batman says softly.

“How can he even get upset?” Robin demands. “He’s not even him anymore. He broke for them.” The little boy stiffens when Talon looks at him. “I _thought_ you were stronger than this, Grayson.”

“We have no idea what they did to him,” the Batman says. “You are one more word from going home.”

Robin’s shoulders snap back and Talon’s stomach twists. The little Robin seems upset and if Talon could leave to make that better he would. He understands not wishing to be here.

“Do you have any recollection of before?” the Batman asks.

“Before what?” Talon replies, head cocked to the side.

“Before you were Talon,” the Batman says.

Before Talon was Talon? “I am always Talon.”

“No, you weren’t. You were someone else,” Red Robin says.

“Then no,” Talon says. “I have no recollection of before.”

There’s a beat of heavy silence before Red Robin clears his throat and asks, “And does that bother you?”

“The Court will tell me whatever I need to know.” Talon shrugs. “I do not need to know before, or they would tell me.”

For a moment, it appears as if Red Robin will argue. His hands curl into fists, his expression hardens. There is anger in the crease of his forehead and the stiffness of his back. It eases, after a moment, which lets Talon relax in response.

“If we take you back with us-“

“No,” Talon says. He steps back towards the edge. “I am to return to the Court within the hour. I am authorized to use violence should it be necessary to extricate myself from the situation. Do not attempt detainment.”

For a man whose mere presence chilled Talon to his core yesterday, the Batman seems so remarkably human today. His suit looks heavier, it bows his shoulders beneath it. His hands shake. “We won’t take you anywhere, Talon. It was just a question.”

Talon considers that and stills. He doesn’t move any closer to the edge of the rooftop but he doesn’t come closer to the Batman and his allies either. “Ask your questions.”

“Do you know who Dick Grayson is?” Red Robin asks.

“No,” Talon replies. There is no response in him to that name so Talon can only assume that he doesn’t know this person. “Should I?”

“Tt,” Robin cut through the conversation.

“Robin,” the Batman snaps.

Red Robin sighs and reaches back, squeezing the younger one’s shoulder. The action makes the little one jump and glare, but he doesn’t move away from the hand which says more than anything else does in Talon’s opinion.

“He was someone very important to me,” the Batman says. “And then he was taken from us. By the Court.”

Talon frowns. “The Court does not often take prisoners. Your loved one is likely dead.”

“He’s not. I know he isn’t,” the Batman says.

“I have killed many people for the Court,” Talon says. “They do not often take prisoners. He is likely dead. Trust me.”

The Batman flinches. It’s small. If not for Talon’s advanced senses, he’d have likely missed it.

In the distance a siren wails and the sound of the clock tower from across the city reminds Talon of exactly how much time he has to spend here before he can go home.

“You can’t be content to live like this,” Robin says.

Talon glances at the Batman to see his reaction to this disobedience but the man says nothing. The Court would have had his tongue for that kind of insubordination. “I have been given many things. The Court has earned my obedience for its gifts.”

“What gifts?” Robin demands.

“Training,” Talon says. “Advantages. Shelter. Food. Purpose.”

“And this makes you happy?” Red Robin asks.

Talon cocks his head again. “Happiness is irrelevant.”

“Why?” Red Robin asks.

“Because the Court-“

“I don’t want to know anything else about the Court,” Red Robin says.

Talon frowns. “How do I answer your question?”

Red Robin crosses his arms over his chest. “Is Robin right, then?”

“Red Robin,” the Batman warns in the low growl of his.

“No, he has a point, Batman,” Red Robin says. “I can’t listen to him tell me one more thing about what the Court wants or thinks or wants him to think. So Talon, tell me why you’re okay with putting your happiness after their desires?”

“How do I answer your question without talking about the Court?” Talon asks, getting frustrated. He should not be expected to do something out of his abilities.

Red Robin’s lips curl up and Talon is reminded of when Master March presents a test that Talon fails. An eagerness to see him punished. Talon grinds his teeth together. “I thought these advantages were so great? Your purpose? If this is all so great, why does the Court have to tell you what to say?”

If Master March was here, he’d probably agree. Talon should have been grateful. He did not show his gratitude here.

“Talon, will you do something for me?” the Batman asks.

No one prepared him for this question but the Batman is an enemy. To help an enemy would be seen as a betrayal. “I cannot.”

“You _can_ ,” the Batman says. “When you see March again, ask him who Dick Grayson is?”

Talon silently considers that. Asking a question would probably not be betrayal. It gives the Batman no advantage. In fact, considering this whole situation – it is probably within the realm of leeway for Talon to ask questions about the conversation he is having here.

“Talon?” the Batman prompts.

Talon nods.

The clock tower chimes and Talon glances back in time to see the hour hand move to point up at the twelve. He steps back towards the edge of the roof.

“Wait,” Red Robin says.

Talon stills. “I have to go.”

“Already?” the Batman asks.

Talon hesitantly nods.

“March is toying with us,” Robin mutters. “He’s dangling him in front of us.”

Talon frowns but he wasn’t spoken to so he didn’t feel pressure to speak.

“He has to go, Robin,” the Batman says, finally. He nods and Talon feels a surprising bit of relief at the permission to leave.

He doesn’t listen in as he moves away and eventually he’s so far away that even if he wanted to, even his hearing wouldn’t stretch to the rooftop. Which is probably for the best. Everything they’ve said thus far has made his head spin with confusion.

Later, in the training room, Talon is removing his weapons. It’s not often he goes out and doesn’t use them. These won’t have to be cleaned.

“You seem distracted, Talon.”

Talon sets the knife down on the table and turns, kneeling when he realizes that Master March has returned. “Apologies, Master.”

“It’s alright, Talon. I understand. I’m sure that tonight doesn’t make much sense to you,” Master March says.

Talon glances up again and then, encouraged by the man himself bringing up the subject, he shakes his head. “Not really, Master.”

“And you also know that it doesn’t need to. You did what the Court needed you to do and you’ll keep doing it because you trust that the Court knows it’s reasoning,” Master March says.

Talon nods. “Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Master March says. “Finish here and report to your room. You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, Master,” Talon says. He watches the Court member turn and walk towards the door. Talon stands and then softly asks, “Master?”

The man stills. When he turns, his eyes are narrowed but he doesn’t look angry. “Yes, Talon?”

“Master… he… the Batman, he wanted me to ask you who Dick Grayson was,” Talon says, throwing fault at the masked hero instead of himself. He cleared his throat. “Who is Dick Grayson?”

There’s a flash of something in Master March’s eyes before he slowly steps towards Talon once more. A bad feeling settles into Talon’s stomach. “Report to conditioning, Talon.”

Talon’s eyes widened. “Master, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries. I just-“

“Keep talking and we can add more time on. We don’t do favors for heroes, Talon. Certainly not the Batman. Tell them to use the poison on the weapons. I want your back to scar up for him,” Master March says.

Talon bites his tongue to keep from saying something he’ll regret to the man. His shoulders sag and he nods. “Yes, Master.”

~~~

Talon thinks they’ll leave him alone for a few hours but someone steps into the room. Talon forces himself up, cringing from the way it pulled on the lines over his back.

Master March again. Talon drops to his knee with only a muffled grunt.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Master March asks.

Talon takes a moment to catch his breath before nodding. “Yes, Master.”

“Let’s hope you’re not the only one,” Master March says.

Just like that, the man is gone. Talon waits until the footsteps fade before he drops to his hands as well. Exhaustion and pain are making his body rebel against his orders. He closes his eyes, snapping them open as a drop of blood rolls over his shoulder and onto the stone floor.

No more favors for the Batman.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very drunk but here is an update.
> 
> Special thanks to KaRaEa because she beta'd this fic so drunk me could post it, including changing the entire fic from past tense to present tense. She is honestly such a great friend. Everyone should go read and comment on her fics. Do that.
> 
> Warnings:Implied/Referenced Torture, Threats of Violence, Murder

The hand at Talon’s neck rubs gently, fingers pressing between the muscles as if to dispel the same tension that they are creating. Talon remains ***obediently still on his knees, not reacting to the touch but not resisting it either. He knows better.

“He’s here, Master,” Talon says.

“Good,” Master March says, finally – _blessedly_ – dropping his hand away. Talon rolls his shoulders after the man looks away, turning off the computer on the desk after shutting down the opened pages and closing it. “How is your back feeling, Talon?”

Talon’s eyes snap down to the floor. His back feels raw and angry with every movement, further incentive to remain still. Not that he’d needed a reminder to sit still in a long time. The Court doesn’t appreciate unnecessary movement. “We do not do the Batman favors, Master. I remember, Master.”

“That’s right, Talon,” Master March says. “Let’s see if Brucie can learn that lesson too.”

The footsteps stops outside of the door and Talon can follow the logic. The light, not left on before the man’s departure, now glowing from behind the closed door he’d left open. Whether those clues had been left intentionally by Master March or not are not Talon’s concern, but he knows that the man on the other side of the door knows they are there. The door creaks open and Bruce Wayne stands in the doorway, business suit jacket hanging over his arm. “Lincoln…”

“Bruce,” Master March replies. He glances down towards the kneeling man. “Talon, stand.”

Talon is grateful to get off his knees, gracefully rising to his feet without breaking his perfect posture.

Bruce Wayne closes the door behind himself. “More of your threats?”

“Hopefully it won’t need to get that far,” Master March says. “But today, rather, is about learning a lesson.”

Bruce Wayne’s jaw clenches tightly. “Consider me a student, then.”

Master March’s lips curls up into a cruel smile. “Look how obedient you can be when we have something you want, Brucie.”

“Get on with it,” Bruce growls.

“Talon, remove your shirt and brace your hands on the desk,” Master March orders. Talon’s eyes widen even as he slides the thin, skintight black shirt over his head to bare his chest and back. The man seems to notice and nearly coo at Talon’s obvious fear. “There’s no punishment coming, Talon. Brace your hands against the desk and don’t move.”

The Court wouldn’t lie to him. If he was being punished, they had no qualms about letting him know immediately. Talon relaxes some instantly at the assurance and then puts both hands on the edge of the deck to give Bruce Wayne a clear look at his back.

“You son of a bitch,” Bruce growls.

Talon looks up in time to see Bruce shove Master March into the wall. Talon snaps to action, moving despite the way his body screams in rejection of the idea of combat like this. He slams his foot into the back of Wayne’s knee and sends him to the floor. Wayne defends himself on instinct but pulls the punch before it can connect with Talon.

Talon doesn’t understand that but he has no problem taking advantage. The scuffle is quick with Wayne refusing to deal any real damage and ends with the older man on his back and Talon poised over him with his forearm pressed against Wayne’s neck.

“Good job, Talon,” Master March praises.

“Thank you, Master,” Talon says.

Wayne follows Master March’s motions with his eyes, watching him walk around the man’s own office as if Master March owns it. “I won’t let you get away with this.”

“I already did,” Master March says.

There are a dozen ways for Wayne to break this hold and he fought like he knows all of them but the man never moves…

“Talon, what lesson did you learn from the punishment Bruce just observed?” Master March asks.

“We do not do favors for the Batman, Master,” Talon parrots.

Master March nods. “Who are your masters, Talon?”

“The Court, Master,” Talon says.

Wayne’s eyes glows with anger, even more so as Master March crouches beside his head and pats his cheek. “Now, Bruce, I told you that we were here to teach you a lesson. Did you do as well learning it as Talon did?”

Silence is not acceptable and yet that’s all Wayne treats Talon’s master with. Silence and boiling hatred in his eyes. He closes them, finally, and seems to settle his tense body beneath Talon’s weight. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “There was no reason to hurt him…”

“There was every reason to hurt him,” Master March says. “Because this is how people learn. This is how _you_ are going to learn, Bruce. You’re going to make mistakes, you’re going to rebel. I know you are, brother. But you’re going to realize that the Court will not put up with your usual antics, not any longer.” His hand settles around Bruce’s jaw and squeezes until the man pops his eyes open again. There’s no anger left, just… sadness, grief. Talon shifts at the sight, uncomfortable at the depth of what he sees there. “Watch what you say, watch what you do around him, because if you send him back with a request like that again I will do far worse than whip him for your mistake. Do you understand?”

Talon frowns, lifting his head to look up at Master March. The man only has eyes for Wayne, however.

Master March shakes Wayne with the grip on his chin. “I need a response, Bruce. Do you understand today’s lesson?”

Wayne clenches his jaw and yanks his head away from the hand on him. “Yes.”

“Good,” Master March says, standing again. “I assume I won’t need to make this visit again for some time.” He snaps his fingers. “Talon, get off of him and get dressed. We’re leaving.”

“Yes, Master,” Talon says, standing gracefully and moving to the desk to pull his shirt back on. Beyond a wince at the way the movements pull on his back, Talon doesn’t react. When he turns, Wayne is watching him. Talon meets the gaze for a moment and then looks curiously over to Master March.

The man smirks again. “Come along, Talon.”

A hand wraps around Talon’s wrist and Wayne’s voice is a whisper heard only by Talon’s advanced hearing. “You don’t have to leave with him, Dick.”

Talon frowns and looks back at him, the hand wrapped around his wrist so gently. He searches Wayne’s face.

“Talon?” Master March calls.

Talon pulls his hand back, feeling the absence of warmth like a tangible thing. He steps back and then jogs after his master to follow him back.

~~~

The target wanders down the hall, past Talon’s hiding place in the shadows. He pads after him softly, steps carefully quiet to be overlooked. The study door opens with a creak and then swings closed. Talon’s fingers slips between the latch and the door bounces off them gently without closing. He pushes the door open and then shuts it behind him.

The light is a pain on Talon’s eyes, even with the tinted goggles, but he can still clearly make out the man turning and then stumbling back in surprise.

“Who are- who are you?”

“Markus Pirelli, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to death,” Talon says. He doesn’t give him a moment to scream before the side of his hand hits the soft part of the man’s throat. The cry for help turns into a hacking cough, the man bent over and retching from the action.

Talon uses his position to wrap a hand around the back of the man’s neck and push him down into Talon’s knee. He feels the crack of a nose and the wetness of blood seep through his thin uniform.

An arm swings wildly backwards, flailing but hitting nothing. Talon grabs it before it _can_ threaten damage against him and pulls. The pop of the joint sliding out of place is audible. Markus screams.

Talon’s head snaps up as footsteps run down the hallway and stop outside of the door. “Markus?”

The wife. Talon uses his grip on the man and pulls him up, pressing his lips to the man’s ear. “My orders are for you and you alone. Keep quiet and I’ll allow her to live.”

Markus pants and for a moment, Talon assumes the man has heeded his warning. Then he takes a deep breath and shouts, “ _Chiama la polizia!_ ”

Talon grinds his teeth together, drawing the blade at his hip and then sliding it across the man’s throat. A line of red wells and then gushes, blood rapidly pumping to the jugular and then spilling out down his neck and onto the floor. Talon takes off running, chasing after the woman as she bolts away from him. A flip sends him over the couch and she screams again, surely alerting neighbors. He’ll need to make this quick. She slams the door between them but it’s nothing to Talon’s strength. A single kick next to the lock shatters the metal mechanism and the door swings inwards.

She turns just in time for Talon’s throwing knife to sink into her chest. The blood spreads, marking a red circle on the pale blue shirt, before she looks down and then slowly slides to the floor.

Talon steps closer, watching her chest rise and fall with more and more space between each breath before it falls one last time and the seconds after stretch on endlessly. His hand wraps around the hilt of the blade and pulls it out, the wet sound familiar and reassuring.

No witnesses.

“Ba ba aba.” The babble draws Talon’s attention to the crib in the room. * Leaning over the railing is a curly haired child. A tiny hand reaches over and towards the woman lying on the floor. “Mama mama mama mama.”

Talon cocks his head, examining the creature. Blood drips off the blade of the knife as he steps closer.

“Mama mama mama mama,” the babbling continues. Talon understands that the creature is attempting to rouse its mother, he also knows that the mother will never be roused again. Two little brown eyes look up and the creature breaks out into a wide, toothless grin. The same hand reaching for the fallen mother reaches up towards Talon. Talon steps back.

No witnesses…

Talon’s hand tightens around the blade.

“Mama? Mama?” the child asks.

It is unlikely that the child will remember this moment or Talon, but it is possible. The Court has ordered him to leave no living witnesses and the child, albeit an unlikely witness, could still turn on him, the Court.

Talon approaches until he hears the cock of a gun. “I wouldn’t do that.”

The man aims a gun at him, presumably a man at least. The build is masculine and the voice, while heavily modulated, seems to lean that way as well.

“You kill that child and this is going to be a hell of a lot more painful than a bullet between the eyes.” Talon recognizes him from photos. Another Bat, but with far fewer morals. The Court dislikes him for his unpredictability, for his willingness to take things farther than the Batman.

“Red Hood,” Talon says. This is the one that the Court doesn’t have a name for.

The man snorts from behind the helmet. “You’ve heard of me? Should I be honored? Talon, right? I recognize those dumb looking goggles and getup from the last time we faced your kind.”

Not him, not Talon. He didn’t face the Red Hood before. Perhaps the Talon before him. He pulls the goggles in question up, setting them on the top of his head.

The gun nearly slips from the Red Hood’s fingers. “Dick…”

Talon had been referred to that way before and the return of the name confuses him. He doesn’t know who Dick Grayson was but he’s gotten Talon into enough trouble already without Red Hood heaping more on. “Do not speak that name.”

“Jesus Christ,” Red Hood says. One hand stays on the gun but the other lifts up and a hiss precedes him lifting the helmet away. The man wears a mask underneath but Talon memorizes the parts of his face that he can see. “Does Bats know?”

Talon’s grip shifts on the knife. “Know what?”

“Know that you’re alive?” Red Hood demands.

“We’ve engaged in combat before,” Talon says, vaguely.

Red Hood’s expression tightens. “Bastard didn’t even bother to tell me.”

No witnesses. “Leave.”

“Excuse me?” Red Hood demands. “Not a chance, Goldie. You’re coming with me.”

Master March had assured Talon that the Bats would keep their berth, that he would have no trouble keeping to his order not to kill them because they would not disrupt Talon’s missions. Yet here a Bat stands, the red symbol emblazoned on his chest.

“Leave,” Talon orders again. “I have a mission to complete.”

“Whoa,” Red Hood exclaims. “You’re not a killer, Goldie. You’re going back to the Cave with me where B can patch you up and put the jigsaw puzzle back together in your head.”

Talon’s head aches from the nonsense Red Hood is speaking. He swaps knives for another throwing knife and whips it towards the man. Quick reflexes save Red Hood from taking a knife to the shoulder, a painful but nonlethal attack, but it still gives Talon the opportunity to chase out the open window and drop two stories down to the pavement below.

He lands in a crouch and then takes off running through the alleyway. The sound of boots chasing after him spurs him into running as fast as he can. This should have been easy. Talon is more than capable of taking down one of the Bats. His skills are unparalleled and what he might be matched in skill-wise his advanced strength and speed made up for. But he can’t kill them, can’t even _risk_ killing them and earning himself the punishment of a lifetime.

“Dick!”

The world explodes in pain. Light that blinds his sensitive eyes and the sound that makes Talon’s heightened hearing feel like the worst kind of mistake. He drops to his knees, crying out and covering his ears.

A hand settles on his shoulder and Talon swings a knife back wildly, desperately protecting himself even though he can see and hear nothing. His breathing comes out in short bursts, a threat of hyperventilating if not for Talon’s lesser need for oxygen.

“ _Dic…. Kie? N…wing?_ ”

The voices come back first, sounding like a whisper from the other end of a tunnel.

“ _…Lon…ot hurt y…_ ”

In his vision, human shaped shadows darken and form against the light of the street lights. He keeps the blade up, stumbling back.

“ _Talon_ ,” the voices still sound muted but Talon recognizes the soft gruff of Batman’s voice. He focuses in that direction and swipes at the shadow that approaches. “ _Talon, stop. We’re not going to hurt you_.”

Talon blinks, stepping back until his back hit the brick of a wall behind him. Colors swirl and then finally settle on their respective shapes. He can make out the Batman and the yellow bat over his chest, and the bright red pops of color woven throughout Red Hood’s costume.

“I was trying to get him to come with me, B,” Red Hood says. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me-“

“Because I didn’t want this to happen,” Batman snaps.

Talon eyes the exit to the alley. He’d have to get through both of them and Talon doesn’t appreciate his chances. The Bats are well trained and without their hands tied the way Talon’s are.

“I walked in on him seconds from murdering a child,” Red Hood growls. “What else was I supposed to do?”

The Batman falls silent.

“You can’t honestly be okay with allowing them to use him like a goddamn puppet,” Red Hood says. “He wouldn’t want this, B. He’d be horrified at what you’re letting him do.”

“I’m not letting him do anything, Jason,” Batman says. “I’m protecting him from the Court the only way I can.”

“By giving them permission to use him any fucking way they see fit?” Red Hood asks. “A child, B. He was this close to slitting the throat of a child.”

Talon looks between them. In a way, it seems as if they are discussing Talon, and somehow it feels as if they are discussing someone else entirely. “I am expected back.”

Speaking feels immediately like the worst possible decision he could have made. They both turn to look at him and their gazes are too heavy.

“Go, Talon,” Batman says, softly. “No one will follow.”

“ _Bruce_ -“

“I can’t, Jason,” Batman says.

“He wouldn’t want you to let them do this,” Red Hood says.

“You think I don’t know that?” Batman asks.

Red Hood waves an arm towards Talon, still standing by the wall instead of running like he should be. “It _looks_ like you don’t know that.”

“I can’t,” Batman says again. “I lost them, I lost you. I’ve lost more. I lost him and it nearly destroyed me. You’re asking me to volunteer to lose him again.”

“We lost him the day he went missing, Bruce. This… version they’ve brought back? It’s not the same thing. We either do everything in our power to get _him_ back, or we acknowledge that he’d rather be dead than this,” Red Hood says.

Talon can’t even blame fear anymore. Not fear of the Batman, who looks so broken, or fear of the Court, who he _cannot_ return to with Red Hood hot on his trail. Instead, he is here out of curiosity. He does not understand the Batman’s interest in Talon. The Court, maybe, but not this quiet defeat that makes him look so much more human than the Court has painted him to be.

“Talon,” Batman says. “Go.”

Red Hood swears viciously but he still steps back when Batman looks up at him. It gives Talon room to walk by, cautiously, and then break into a run to get away from them and return home.

In the stone walled room where he trains, his instructor takes his weapons and does a quick examination of damage before moving on to Talon. “Mission report.”

“Successful, sir.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Two, sir.”

“Course of action?”

“One witness was terminated, sir,” Talon said.

The instructor’s head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“One witness was terminated, sir,” Talon repeats.

“Why only one?” The instructor demands.

Talon doesn’t dare take a step back, no matter how much he wants to. “I was interrupted by the Red Hood, sir. The witness is a child, young enough that memory of the event is highly unlikely.”

“Unlikely does not equal impossible,” the man says, voice so cold as to make Talon shiver.

“I was unable to terminate the second witness. The Red Hood interrupted. Permission to take lethal action against the Batman and his allies was revoked. I could not terminate the witness without engaging in combat with the Red Hood,” Talon presses. “I weighed the dangers. This was the logical course of action.” A brief pause, very brief, and Talon adds on a belated, “Sir.”

The instructor’s eyes narrowed. Talon doesn’t move. “Report to conditioning.”

“Sir?” Talon asks.

“You are subject to reconditioning at any moment,” the instructor says. “The fact that you are questioning me at all determines that the act is necessary.”

Talon’s mouth closes. Further questions would only make it worse.

Talon’s back is still painful from his punishment from doing his favor for the Batman. Now he is being punished for the Red Hood’s interference.

“I need to speak with the Grandmaster.” His instructor’s voice makes Talon turn, watch the man speak through a cell. “Yes. Tell her that I think there’s a problem.”


End file.
